


Empty Beds

by toesohnoes



Category: Wicked - Schwarz/Holzman
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-24
Updated: 2011-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-15 01:15:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toesohnoes/pseuds/toesohnoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Elphaba is gone, Glinda can't help but think about her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Empty Beds

There is green skin in her dreams.

Green skin and emerald kisses and hair like the darkest tornado.

They float by - enough to tease, enough to taunt, but never enough to sink her fingers into and explore.

She wakes, alone in her large bed, with the shadows of her ceiling too close above her. There's no colour in this darkness, nothing but dusky grey - the loneliness settles like a dead weight in her chest, holding her down, dragging her under.

*

She smiles in public. It is her job and duty to do so.

But at home, alone, when the eyes of the people do not rest upon her, she allows her heart to break and her hand to fall between her own legs. She closes her eyes and does not think of her long-lost fiance; instead, she thinks of falling and flying and broomsticks that zoom through the air. The wind whips against her face and she hears the sparks of Elphaba's surprised laughter as her fingers skim across her cunt.

When she comes, lost in a mixture of memories and fantasies, the colours and muted and the room is silent.

A clock ticks on the wall in accusation.

*

When they meet again, the moon shines on them. Elphaba's face is painted with righteous anger and Glinda knows well the leashed power that burns in her fury. Dangerous - arguing with her has always been a calculated rush.

"You should run home, Glinda," Elphaba says. She clutches her broomstick as if it might fly away without her. "Run to your wizard."

"He's not _my_ wizard."

It's not like that. The world is more complicated than Elphaba is willing to see, and sometimes Glinda wishes that she could knock some sense into her, hit and kiss her until she knew what it means to live by society's rules.

But her skin is even greener than Glinda remembers, dark like still water in the starlight, and that says it all. She doesn't live in society because society will not allow her to do so. Life is difficult when you're not blonde and popular.

"I'd invite you to come with me," Elphaba says, "but we both know that's a lost cause."

She can't turn her back as Elphaba has done. She isn't strong enough; isn't brave enough.

But -

"Come home with me," she offers. "Just for tonight. I get lonely."

Elphaba will refuse, she knows. Stubborn and bull-headed and beautiful, Elphaba can't know what it means to stay awake at night and mourn a friendship long-gone. She can't know what it means to hurt like this.

Yet, head tilted to the side, she smiles like the schoolgirl she once was and gestures to the back of her broom. "Hop on," she suggests - and the pair of them fly into the sky, as free as they always ought to have been.

*

In the morning, she awakes to a cold, empty bed. She expects to find green streaks on the sheets, smears of colour, but nothing remains. Nothing but memories and the lingering wetness in her pussy, a thousand memories of how the night had been spent - the way that Elphaba's lips had shone and her eyes had sparkled in amusement as she teased Glinda right to the blink, and the way that her face had flushed and her cries had raised when Glinda had repaid that wicked favour.

Memories.

They are enough to wrap around her, and keep the coldness at bay.


End file.
